Back in a Flash
by TheRantDragon
Summary: Series of fix-it drabbles. No set order, all in the same fix-it verse, Post Endgame. They never again grieved Barry for the phrase "back in a flash". (Part 3: "Yeah, we'd like to order a Blondie to split.")
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer- I do not own Young Justice. If I did, I wouldn't even need to write this.**

**Ranty does a fix-it oneshot. I will now attempt to heal your souls with just a little bit of angst and WHOLE lot of happy!**

**o.o.o.o**

From the moment Artemis wakes up, she can tell something is... off.

It's an ominous sort of feeling, a sense of foreboding and the unknown.

She wonders if maybe it has something to do with the dream she'd had last night, but that held no explanation; she's been having the same dream for the last three weeks, one in which she is happily with Wally until he disappears from her arms, leaving her all alone.

Her throat constricts just thinking about it, but then she realizes something that gives her an alarming pause.

Today has been the first morning in which she hasn't woken up crying. There were no tears, just itchy, tired eyes that feel like they haven't seen the inside of her lids for well over a month.

She panics. Panics because she's struck with the sudden, horrifying thought that maybe she doesn't miss Wally anymore. How could she wake up from that horrible nightmare without crying? Does he not mean anything to her anymore? Has she given up on him?

But no. That's silly. Wally still means everything to her. She still loves him, and not a day goes by in which he does not occupy her every thought.

She wonders if this is what healing feels like.

o.o.o

Paula Crock has been ecstatic to have her daughter back, though she is also stricken with a sense of grief for Wally West, the man who had helped her through one of the toughest times of her life, the man who had loved her daughter unconditionally.

Wally West had been so full of life that Paula had not believed he could be gone.

She still doesn't.

Paula doesn't speak of him though, not around Artemis, not for her poor daughter's sake; she has not spoken of him since the night Artemis came home, laden with a bag and bravely keeping her composure as she asked if she could stay there for a few weeks. Paula had immediately said yes, of course, but she was a mother, and though that had been the first she had seen her beloved Artemis since she faked her death, she did not chastise her for it. She did not say anything. Instead, she had wordlessly held out her arms, and Artemis had dropped her bags right there in the doorway, tears flowing freely down her pale cheeks as she dropped to her knees and curled into her mother's warm embrace.

Paula Crock hopes she never has to see her youngest daughter cry like that ever again.

o.o.o

The bad feeling stays with Artemis as she makes herself and her mother breakfast.

It's a meager start to the day; burned toast and eggs that might be slightly on the runny side. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes for the mistake; she remembers cooking things with Wally all the time. It was something they did together, trying new recipes and making a huge mess as they did so, sometimes getting sidetracked and making love while their concoction burned in the oven.

She wipes her eyes and hates herself for crying over something so _stupid_.

o.o.o

"Are you leaving, soon?" Paula asks quietly around one o'clock. They are in the living room, Paula sipping lightly on some herbal tea as the comedy station creates background noise. Artemis is in the floor, absently cleaning her crossbow, which has been painted orange for reasons Paula would rather not know about; Artemis has not been forthcoming on her activities, of late.

"Yes."

"Are you going to be close?"

"A few blocks away," the archer replies, voice husky as ever. Her answers hold little emotion. Paula's brows furrow. Her daughter has become a robot, barely living each day. It hurts a mother to see her child in such a way, but she cannot heal Artemis's wounds, as much as she would like to.

Only Artemis can heal Artemis, and that will take time. Lot's of time, and even that will never be quite enough.

o.o.o

The hairs at the nape of Artemis's neck stand up as soon as she exits the Zeta tube near Palo Alto, California.

At first she thinks it's a side effect from the Zeta energy, but she's never noticed such a thing before today. Feelings of disorientation, sure. But never this.

She tries to shake it off as she exits the alley and walks down the bustling sidewalks, her arms laden with folded cardboard boxes of varying sizes and depth. She can't though. The air here feels incredibly muggy and _alive_. Charged with electricity, like before a storm, but the sky is cloudless and blue above her.

No one else seems to notice, walking and talking and laughing happily all around her, and she wonders if maybe she's finally going crazy.

o.o.o

She hates seeing their apartment again.

It makes her jaw tighten, especially when she sees their mailbox. It's overflowing with unread mail, but Artemis doesn't bother to relieve the poor box of it's load. She walks right passed it with purpose, trying not to imagine what types of letters, bills, and Stanford related things might be in it.

What kinds of condolence letters.

She does not let herself think about it anymore as she twists her key in the lock and lets herself in.

o.o.o

Even the air in their apartment is muggy and charged.

o.o.o

She cries a lot as she works.

It's slow going, because she has to stop herself every ten minutes to avert herself from crying or else stop the tears she is not quick enough to prevent.

After a while, she turns on the TV so that it's gentle noise can filter through the rooms.

Sometimes, when she's in another room, she allows the sound to convince her, if for a moment, that Wally is in the living room watching the news.

o.o.o

It's 7 p.m. and she's not sure which is worse: packing up his clothes that still have his scent clinging to them, or not being able to pack away their pictures without staring at each and every one of them as they go into the box, dreaming of far off memories that she would give her life to have back.

o.o.o

"_...freak lightning storm, Dan. Viewers are claiming it seems to have materialized from nowhere, which certainly seems to be the case. None of our meteorologists can say at any length where this odd weather has rolled in from, but we advise everyone to stay indoors. The frequency and violence of the strikes has been reported to be increasing as the hour comes to an end, and the storm is moving at an alarming rate toward the Palo Alto area, now..."_

o.o.o

Artemis is in the living room when the first flashes catch her eye through the window. She has forced herself to stop and dig something out to eat, something that hasn't spoiled or gone bad by now.

Thunder rocks the house a few times, but she remains calm, never having been one to be frightened of natural occurrences.

However, the flashes seem rather unnatural, and the archer has to wonder how something this bad could have blown in so quickly, without anyone's immediate notice. Then again, she has lived near the coast for over a year, and she knows how crazy the weather can get.

It's not until the flashes become so frequent that it's like a strobe effect, searing imprints of the room into her retinas each time she blinks, that she starts to panic.

A crack of monstrous thunder, close.

Every hair on her body raises up, goose flesh erupting across her bare arms.

o.o.o

_BOOM!_

o.o.o

The power flickers.

The crash is so loud, so close that Artemis feels her heart jump in fright.

A car alarm blares loudly next door.

"Son of a bitch," she whispers, standing up and moving over to the window; the flashing has stopped as suddenly as it started. "That was close..."

o.o.o

It's when there's a knock at the door not even five minutes later that Artemis wonders if something bad has happened to her soon-to-be-former neighbors.

She walks over and wrenches the door open, expecting to see a panicked person asking for her help.

Instead, all speech dies on her lips, and she feels like she's dreaming again.

o.o.o

He's standing there.

Just standing there, his hair sticking on end, singed a little. There are spots of blackened flesh on his body, but he doesn't seem to notice. He's naked, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care enough to bother covering himself up.

He seems lost, worried and confused at first, but as soon as his eyes focus on her, his face softens into a look she's all too familiar with; a look she's only seen in her dreams of late.

He doesn't even seem to be aware of himself. His eyes are only for Artemis, and Artemis's are only for him. Her throat constricts and her body starts to shake and her eyes itch and burn and tears cascade slowly down her cheeks.

She wonders if he's real, because his body still seems so alive with a strange kind of electricity; it's like his body is humming in a ceaseless desire to run, a need to release energy.

But she reaches out and touches him, his shoulder, the freckles there.

And his skin is warm, real, and _alive _beneath her fingertips. She presses the ends of her calloused digits roughly into his shoulder, ignoring his slight wince as she feels a pulse jump under her skin.

_His _pulse.

"_Artemis_," he says, his voice cracking with disuse.

And that's all it takes. That one word, her name, the sound of his voice.

A broken sob rips from her throat and she's upon him, flinging her arms around him and pulling him so tightly to her that she fears he may break. But his arms merely wrap around her just as securely, and he's picking her up off the ground. Her legs wrap around his waist and he pets her hair back, pushing her face into the crook of his neck. He smells like ozone mixed with everything she remembers him smelling of, and she might have laughed herself silly at the absurdity of it if she weren't too busy crying loudly into his neck.

He repeats her name, several times, always over the sound of her sobs, her wails, the hot tears soaking his shoulder. She cries until her head hurts, and he never lets her go. She can feel his body all around her and still she fears this is a dream, another terrible dream and he'll leave her again at any moment.

She swallows the lump in her throat and croaks out his name.

"_Wally... Wally... Wally..._ please let if be you. _Please _don't let this be another dream, _please_—"

He cuts her off with a kiss.

A very _real _kiss, one that robs her of her breath. His lips are gentle but urgent as they slant over hers; full of intent. She curls her legs more tightly around him and grabs his face, kissing him back just as fiercely, because she suddenly feels more alive than she's felt for three weeks, and she _knows _that this is Wally West.

Wally is here. He's with her, and this is not a dream; her dreams could never feel this real, this wonderful. Dream Wally could never hold a candle to the things the real Wally always made her feel.

They break away, breathing heavily, pupils blown wide.

He presses his forehead to hers, reaching up to wipe her lingering tears away with his fingers.

"I'm here, baby. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. Never again," he whispers to her, voice husky with emotion, and she's surprised to see tear tracks on his scorched face; he's been crying too. "I love you, Artemis. Please tell me you still love me as much as I love you, god, _Artemis_..." he shudders out, a dehydrated man thirsty for water.

She curls her fingers none-too-gently into his wild ginger hair and makes him look at her, _really _look at her.

"I love you, Wally West. I _never _stopped loving you. I never could. I love you, I love you," she tells him sternly, punctuating her last two declarations of love with genteel nips to his bottom lip. He groans, rubbing his face into her hair, one hand on the back of her head. "I'm offended you even asked me that," she growls quietly as an afterthought, tugging affectionately at his earlobe with her teeth.

He laughs with relief, a laugh choked with emotion, and she joins him, both of them kissing and holding each other in another long, tight embrace.

Artemis feels whole again.

"Artemis..." he says, after a time. He is slowly swaying them both back and forth.

"Hmm?" she hums, kissing his shoulder, his neck, his jawline.

"I really need some clothes."

**o.o.o**

_**Basically the same general idea that everyone has(I think we're all right on the money with the whole displacement theory), him being stuck in a plane of existence or a field of energy like the Speed Force.**_

_**But basically, the reason there's a freak electrical storm above Palo Alto is because Wally is the cause of it. He was trying to get back, and of course he was thinking about home and Artemis so terribly much as he was running, trying to recreate this very energy that swept his molecules away, that that's where he finds himself when he finally gets out. The "lightning" was actually energy just crackling and escaping from Wally as he ran.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer- I do not own Young Justice. If I did, I wouldn't have to write this.**

**Okay so... this just happened the other night; my muse attacked me in the shower and then I rushed to get out and write this. IDK. I guess this has turned into a series of "fix-it" oneshots? I've already got another that I need to finish and intend to put here so... yeah.**

**o.o.o**

Nights like tonight make Barry question his career choices. The whole lab is quietly subdued, but none more than Barry Allen. No one asks him why he's taking it so much harder, and he's glad because he isn't up to offering the information.

He runs his fingers through his blond hair and departs, digging his keys out of his coat pocket as he sloshes through the pouring rain to his vehicle. The entire drive home is a blur, for his mind is a million miles away, back with the body that will soon be in the hands of the autopsy lab.

He had saved her.

Red hair, porcelain skin, a freckle or two on her nose. Ice blue eyes.

He looked right into those eyes as the Flash. He saw the fear and then the hope in those eyes as he set her safely out of the way of one of his foes. He told her to follow the crowd out of the area and that he hoped she'd have a safe rest of the day.

Apparently she hadn't.

And Flash hadn't been there to save her from the bullet.

Barry rubs at his eyes, idling at a stoplight. They itch, are wetter than usual, and he digs his thumb and forefinger into them painfully. He's not sure what he had hoped would happen, but all he accomplishes is squeezing a small tear out and making spots dance before his vision.

This isn't the first time something like this has happened. And it never hurts less.

But this time it hurts so much more potently, because for the past few weeks, every dead body is Wallace Rudolph West.

Three weeks. Three weeks and it still hurts.

He hadn't been fast enough to save his own damn nephew. Who was he kidding, trying to keep this charade up? He couldn't save anyone anymore.

He was losing his touch.

His eyes are dry by the time he gets home, and even the sight of a very pregnant Iris running(waddling at a fast pace, rather) towards him, grin lighting up her face, eyes shining, cell phone clutched in her hand does little to lift his mood. Her excitement fades as she takes in his bloodshot eyes.

"Babe, is everything okay?" she asks in concern, stepping toward him. Barry shrugs off his wet jacket and digs his digits into his sockets again, shaking his head and holding up a hand as he does so.

"I just... it happened again," he says, voice hollow. He doesn't even need to explain, because she knows. She gently lays her cell phone down on the table and pulls him to her, and he bends to her height, hugging her as much as he can around her swollen belly.

"Oh, Barry, I'm so sorry," she murmurs, her fingers running through his hair. He blinks and a few tears escape again.

"Another Wally," he laughs bitterly. "Another person the Flash just couldn't get to in time. Maybe I'm losing my touch."

"Babe..." she chides quietly; Barry rarely gets so low, and it hurts her to see him this way. He doesn't answer, just squeezes her a little tighter, placing his forehead on her shoulder, and for a while they just sway back and forth together on the spot, her fingers curling in the hair at his nape.

"I was thinking, Iris..." he begins quietly.

"Actually, Barry, I need to tell you—"

"I was thinking we could name one of the twins after Wally—"

"Artemis called."

Barry pulls away from her, brows furrowed.

"Artemis? Is there something wrong?" He asks because it's been awhile since they last talked with the poor girl; they had comforted her in any way they could, comforted each other, really. But Artemis had gone completely silent in the last week. Barry wonders if something bad has happened.

But that wonder fades as the smile returns to Iris's face, and her eyes shine again.

"Barry, it's Wally. _He came back_."

The speedster's brain short circuits.

"I... what?"

Iris laughs, a genuine laugh, the first he's heard from her since Wally's death. It does things to his heart, warming it from the inside out, as if a small flame has just been reignited there. He loves the things she does to him.

"_Wally's alive_, Barry! Artemis called a few minutes before you got home."

Barry can't believe this. He _has _to be dreaming.

"But... _how_!?" he splutters, eyes widening, heart pounding; this can't be real. "I _saw _him go, Iris! I saw him go, he was right beside me and then he was... he was _gone_!"

Tears have escaped down Iris's cheeks by this point, but they're _happy_.

"I heard his voice, Barry. He was with her, she put him on. They haven't figured out what happened yet but he's here!" the reporter tells him happily, throwing her arms back around him for a much happier hug. Barry returns it, his own laughter belting out. He's not sure if this is some sick dream, but he's going to live it out even if it is, even for this one glorious moment of happiness. Iris pulls away and holds out her cell phone. "They wanted to talk to you, but I told them you were still at work. Call them back, right now."

She didn't have to tell him twice. Fingers shaking as he scrolls through the contacts, he selects Artemis's and lets it ring, Iris standing with her hands over her mouth and tears still glistening in her eyes. He pulls her close to his side as he waits.

"Artemis?" he asks as soon as the phone clicks, voice quavering. And he's never in his life been so happy to hear that woman's husky voice rasping back at him from across the line.

"_He came back in a flash_," she chokes out. And for the first time in weeks, it's with laughter instead of sorrow. The phone must be on speaker between them, because the next voice is not Artemis's. Barry nearly collapses to his knees when another voice filters in over the phone, strong and deep.

"_Hey, uncle Barry. Sorry it took me so long."_

**o.o.o**

**I just wondered if Barry had ever saved anyone as Flash, then found their dead bodies as a civilian CSI. I'm so morbid.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice, if I did I wouldn't even have to write this.**

**I got this idea about a week back when we went to a restaurant on my brother's b-day. Blondies were had, and then for some reason I was like "I want to write about Wally and Artemis splitting a Blondie!" and then this sappy piece of junk happened! :3**

**Dedicated to my pal Sarcatt(Blooming Cosmo on here, methinks), who has been having a less than stellar week(s)!**

**o.o.o**

"Mm, hey, want to split a Blondie?"

"Do you even have to ask, babe?"

He sends her this _look _across the table, accompanied by a genuine smile that sprays his freckles up in the most endearing way that makes her heart clench. She can't help but smile back at him, can't help the balloon of contentment that expands in her chest cavity as both their hands seek each other out across the table top. Their fingers intertwine.

_God, how she'd missed him._

There's a comfortable silence between them as they wait for the waiter to come back by, and the archer allows her gaze to tear away from Wally's face long enough to take in the surrounding tables. The little restaurant is dimly lit, and they're among the last of the late night crowd. There are only maybe two other tables still occupied a ways away from them; gentle snatches of conversation reach her ears every so often, but all Artemis cares about tonight is the man sitting across from her.

His thumb gently strokes the back of her palm, drawing her gaze back to him. They smile at each other again, and Wally opens his mouth to say something when the waiter returns, asking them whether they would like dessert or not. Wally winks at Artemis before speaking up, and she mentally prepares herself for what she knows is coming.

"Yeah, we'd like to order a Blondie to split," he says calmly, watching the waiter write it down. "But, ah..." he adds, digging into the seat of his pants to bring forth his wallet. The waiter watches in mild confusion as he thumbs through a few bills, at last pulling out a crisp looking twenty, which he holds delicately between two of his fingers before saying, quietly and with much discretion, "Could you, ah, make it the size of the plate it comes on? And put a few extra scoops of vanilla ice cream on top? Two spoons, please."

Artemis is having a hard time stifling her laughter, long since having had to bring her hand up to her mouth to hide her amusement at the expense of the shocked looking waiter.

_God_, how she had missed Wally West with every fiber of her being.

"I... uhm, i-it'll be a few minutes, uh, sir," the waiter stammers out, clearly at a loss of whether to accept or reject this strange request. He takes the twenty though and walks away, casting a glance back at the couple as if he expects them to call out that they were kidding and just want a normal dessert.

"_Wally_," Artemis laughs out softly, reaching for his hand again. "You scared him."

Wally snorts, bringing his other hand up so that he's cupping hers in the both of them, warmth seeping into her pores. He plays idly with her fingers.

"I can't help it if he's never seen a guy with a huge appetite. Besides, I gave him a twenty, it's his lucky day."

They both chuckle together. His comment gets her thinking vaguely about how, as voracious as his appetite had always been, he's never been hungrier than he's been in the four weeks since he's returned home. Or faster, for that matter. Something had happened to him, that much they were sure of.

"Babe?"

"Hm?" she asks, snapping back to the present.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" he asks seriously, reaching over to push a loose strand of golden hair behind her ear.

"Only about a hundred times since we left the apartment, handsome," she retaliates. "And about a thousand since you got back."

"Good. You can make that a thousand-and-one and counting."

"How many times have I told you I missed you?" she asks quietly, and that sobers the both of them up. He pulls her hand up to his mouth and kisses the back with chapped lips, again and again, making her skin tingle in the best way.

"Every minute since I've been back, babe," he says, kissing each of her fingers.

"Then this one might be a few minutes overdue; I missed you, Wally," she tells him earnestly, eyes locked onto his. "So much." She doesn't think words will ever properly convey _just _how much. It's only been four weeks since he's been back in her life, and things have only just begun to settle back into some semblance of normalcy for them, but she doesn't know if she can ever stop telling him how much she missed him.

"And I you, Artemis," he murmurs, and she thinks he might have continued to kiss her hand for the rest of the night, had their waiter not returned within that moment, laden with a plate that had the biggest portion of brownie on it that Artemis had ever seen. Wally nearly drools as he thanks their server, who walks away looking glad to be done with his task.

"Artemis, I think maybe you should have gotten your own because I am about to go to town on this whole thing," he warns her, grabbing his spoon like it's a weapon. He spreads a scoop of ice cream over his end and drizzles some caramel over it, missing his girlfriend's dagger throwing glare.

"You better not even think about it, Wallace," she growls, spooning caramel and ice cream over her own slice of heaven. He's not paying attention though, because his mouth is already bursting with chocolate-vanilla goodness and he's got his eyes closed in rapture. She joins him a moment later, both of them humming in delight at the mouth-watering dessert.

The two lovers are so lost in their taste buds for the next few minutes that they barely even spare each other glances. It's only when Artemis has slowed down, stuffed, that Wally himself slows his chewing and speaks.

"So," he says casually, maybe a little _too _casually as he gets another piece on his spoon. "Artemis. I'm not sure if now is the right time to bring this up, but.." he trails off for a moment, nervous, then continues, "But I've... just been wondering here lately if... if maybe we should consider going back... back to the, ah, the game?"

Artemis's whole body freezes up. Her knuckles whiten around her spoon, her muscles tense, her jaw tightens, and the Blondie still in her mouth is suddenly tasteless on her tongue. She swallows, hard, the food going down like a thick glob of peanut butter that blocks her airways and forces her to take a generous sip of her beverage before she can speak.

"_No_," she says firmly, voice like ice. The word comes out automatically, no thought to it. She drops her spoon onto her plate with a loud clatter, completely unnerved.

Wally's eyes widen and he reaches over to grab her hand again.

"Babe, Artemis, I'm so sorry for bringing this up right now, that was so _stupid_," he apologizes hastily, stroking her palm again and looking like he wants to bash his own head in. She hates that he can see how visibly shaken she is just at the thought of going back into the hero business.

"Wally, I... I just... how can you even _think _about that right now?" she asks, brows knitting together. She despises the way her voice sounds thick with tears, barely concealed emotions dripping in her speech. It's not like she didn't know the subject would come up, but she hadn't expected it so soon. She hasn't had time to gather her thoughts, hasn't even had time to get used to the idea of Wally being back in her arms, not even after four weeks of sleeping with him every night. The thought of the _risks_, the dangers of going back...

She's already lost him once. She can't bear it again.

"Artemis, I... I'm sorry for what happened. I can't imagine what those two months were like for you. I mean, I know what it was like for _me_; I thought about you _every day _in that useless place of energy and nothingness. You occupied my every thought, but at least... at least I knew you were alive somewhere," he says, squeezing her hand. His gaze darkens and his eyes look a little unfocused, like he's far off somewhere else, and for a moment she thinks he's lost in the memories of the place he calls the "Speed Force", but then he speaks. "But I know what's it's like to live without _you_, Artemis. I still have nightmares about it sometimes."

Artemis shudders; he's talking about the failsafe exercise. She squeezes _his _hand this time, reassurance that she's here, with him.

He smiles a little sadly at her.

"I just imagine that, but tenfold for you. And I bet I'm _still _not close to the pain you felt, babe." He kisses her hand again. "All I'm trying to say is, I get the hesitation, Artemis. _I get it_. I'm scared, too. It's a dangerous life and we both... we both know the consequences. But I still think we should consider."

"Wally..." she starts, torn. Torn because she feels the same way.

"I don't mean right now, Artemis," he says gently. "Not in the next month, not even in the next year. I don't want us to do anything we're not ready for. Right now I just want us to be together. I want us to finish college, find us a house, maybe even..." he trails off, cheeks flushing almost as red as his hair. Artemis averts her eyes, her own face heating up because they both know he's thinking about marriage. She can't deny the excitement and nervousness that pools in her stomach at the thought of marrying Wally, but before she can contemplate this welcome idea more, he clears his throat and carries on. "I just feel like... the world _needs _us, Artemis."

She really hates him sometimes. Hates it when he hits the way she feels so flawlessly, even if she's too stubborn or afraid to say it herself. She looks away from him, fingers clenching in his grip, and he feels it.

"Artemis..." he murmurs, prying her tense fingers apart one by one before she can start to draw the blood. She sighs, jaw tight, brows furrowing in the center, but at last she lets her gaze fall to his. Green meets gray in earnesty.

She's always had a bit of a weakness for his eyes. She relaxes a bit, but not entirely.

"Wally, I... I agree. I do, the world _does _need us. But they don't need us right _now_," she says firmly, pushing a strand of loose hair away from her face, eyes glittering with finality. "There are so many new heroes joining the Team and the League right now; they've got things more than covered. I think the world can wait a little longer for us... okay?"

He grins at her, gets out of his seat to lean across the length of their table, over their empty plate of Blondie, and captures her lips in a kiss. She returns it fervently, every nerve-ending in her body jumping into life at the feel; even after all this time it still thrills her to have him kiss her again.

And she knows they'll talk about this more. Much more. But for right now, they have an understanding, and that's enough to get them through the next few months.

"Er, ahem..."

The voice of their harassed looking waiter interrupts them. They break apart, chuckling quietly, faces still close enough that their breaths mingle, until Wally plops back into his chair. He opens his mouth to speak to their server, but then he notices Artemis staring at his shirt with barely contained mirth, and looks down curiously.

The speedster's horrified noises at the sight of the caramel his shirt had dipped into upon leaning over have Artemis laughing, a loud sound that echoes in the near empty depths of the diner.

She doesn't care that she snorts. She doesn't care that Wally shoots her a helpless, pouty look across the table because she's laughing at his expense(there's a twinkle in his eye anyway, one that tells her how glad he is to see her laughing like that). She doesn't care that their waiter looks incredibly irritated with the two of them by the time they're paying him and leaving the establishment.

She doesn't care because she has her speedster, her Wallace Rudolph West is back in her life.

And as they're walking home arm-in-arm in the warm summer night, as he looks over at her and she spots a smudge of caramel at the corner of his lip while he grins doofily at her, she bites her bottom lip and thinks that maybe, maybe the world isn't even _ready _for them yet.


End file.
